Chirp

You are the bat. The seam was the mouth of a cave, and you are already well inside it.

You chirp. A ring of sound goes out and lights the walls for one moment. Teal. Wet stone, and scratched into it at the height of your eye, one word: ECHO. You keep it. Then the ring is gone and you are in the dark again, but you know where the dark is.

The echo comes back as a tap on your wrist. Tap. Tap. Tap tap tap. You are leaning away from the wall before you know there is a wall.

Moths. One at the edge of the ring, one below it, one that was beside your ear and is not now. You take them as they come. They are dry as paper. One is pale, with two blue spots on its wings, and it does not fly the way the others do.

Far above, through the rock, something small buzzes once, evenly, and stops.